


Satan's Savior

by Meta_Ren



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meta_Ren/pseuds/Meta_Ren
Summary: Stuart is feed-up with the world. He feels like everything has been taken from him and all he can do is rely on the security of his overly protective and Christian parents. But by chance, being re-united with a mysterious character, Murdoc Niccals, from his childhood causes a stir. The Christian goody two-shoes and Satanic bad boy have a lot in common, but can they overcome the obstacles that face them or will the face of adversity rear its ugly head in the direction of creating a happy relationship?





	1. Sunday Morning

The Sunday morning air was crisp on his walk to the local church at Stoke-on-Trent. Excitement streamed through his body as his trailed along the sidewalk, Bible in hand. This was one of the few times his parents would let him walk alone; they worried about his wellbeing more than most parents his age do. Ever since the accident a couple of years back, they have kept a close eye on his every move.

His goofy smile and missing front teeth made him look like the Alfred E. Newman from MAD Magazine, which gave him the upper hand in school popularity. For now at least. 

Nearing the small church building, the small boy remembered one last important thing: He needed to straighten out his Sunday’s best before entering. First, he checked his jet black shoes for dirt, then his pants for any stains, and last but not least, his blue blazer. It may digress to say that his father worried most over the blazer than any material object they owned, as he worked overtime to afford such quality fabric. Everything seemed to be in pristine condition.

Giving it a ponder more, he finally decided that his inspection did justice. He reaches for the church door, extending his small, yet long fingers to firmly grasp the handle. Nothing could ruin the perfect moment for him. Closing his eyes and giving a sigh of relief, he guides the door towards him so he can proceeded with his entry. He was never more proud than this moment now. 

His carful demeanor always knew to direct the door back in its place as to not cause an abrupt reverberation throughout the church. Pride rushed through his veins. He actually got to church without messing anything up for once! He turns around, and his pride boils to embarrassment.

 

“Care to join us Stewart?” Not just the preacher, but the entire congregation was gazing upon the red-faced boy. Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Stewart trots quickly towards the front row to join his mother and father. Appropriately, as he sits, the preacher recommences his spit-fire sermon. As the ashamed boy begins to calm down, he felt a hard pat on his back, beckoning him to look up. 

 

It was his dad. He was giving the, ‘We’ll talk later’ smile…like every time. Fear surged through him. He disliked stern talking toos and it seems they are becoming more and more prominent in his everyday life. It would only be proper to pray to God in hope that dad wouldn’t take away one of the only independent times of the week he had. 

His insecurities always got the best of him. One would think the good Lord couldn’t get annoyed over one thing that his people have to say, but Stewart was different. He felt like a lost cause to prayer and asking for the same things constantly only upset his God; everything was a sham and lie he thought.  
Just like every Sunday sermon, Stuart tried his hardest to understand what the preacher was conveying. Covering such broad subject manners such as divorce, politics, and even basics like sharing and love, it was no wonder all the notions would go in one ear and out the other for the nine year old. 

“It’s a privilege for me to be here this blessed morning with you. As you all may know, Mr. Bradley is not here with us this day. And it is with my deepest condolences to inform his family and friends that he has passed on.” Stuart’s mind stopped. His eyes grew big.

“We all need to take a lesson from our departed brother. I was notified that the information said here is to stay in the Lord’s home. Before I begin, let me share a scripture that will enlighten us in his grace. Please turn to (Leviticus 20:13) and I say to thee, ‘If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.’” The small boy began to lower his head in contempt. Surely, Mr. Bradley couldn’t…

“Yes. To say what every single one of you are thinking. Yes brothers and sisters. Mr. Bradley was a sinful man! He knew that it was wrong! He knew that committing sodomy with another man was not the way to heaven! With this in mind, he couldn’t take it anymore! He relieved himself! It’s humiliating!” Stuart zoned out once more. What did sodomy mean?

“I’m not just speaking to the adults! Parents, your children are at high risk for becoming like our once well respected, Mr. Bradley. I expostulate with his lifestyle, but he knew he could seek help, but didn’t take it! Do not take this lightly. Homosexuality is sin.” 

There was a long silence throughout the church isle, more than usual. The preacher’s words echoed into the minds of all that listened. Breaking the silence, the preacher begins once more. 

“Keep these words tight. I know you all want to go eat. Join me in prayer before departure.” Everyone precedes to drop their heads and fold their hands together. Stuart couldn’t help but finally look up. 

All the people were at peace for this one time. He felt superior for once. That is until his dad would have to speak to him.

 

***

As they walked from the building, the adults collected off to the side, leaving the few children to either be cemented to their mother’s leg or off on the other side to do as they please. Knowing that most of the other kids were snot nose brats that he would have to babysit for a prolonged amount of time, Stuart wondered off. 

He didn’t have an agenda or map, making his adventure all the more fun. Maybe he would see a squirrel or maybe a small pond. Nether less, he gained back his jovial sense and was prepared for whatever would be thrown his way…or so he thought. 

He was unprepared for what was to follow next. As he round the block of the fairly safe neighborhood, he came to an unkempt house. 

His parents had always told him to never pass by or even look at the filthy home, but its state of repair compared to the other around it made it all the more of an oddity. Shingles were torn, the brown paint had slowly turned an army green from the mass of mold growing, and a side porch whose wiring was beyond repair, allowing all types of insects to enter in. It felt comfortably unsafe, if that is a word. The only type of person Stuart could imagine living there would be a filthy old man or the devil himself.

Trying hard to divert his attention else were was hard to do, and soon he let his interest lead him to an investigation. He noted that there was no vehicle in the driveway, so it meant there wouldn’t be a soul inside.  
With great care, he tiptoed tenderly around the house, finding odd shaped pans scattered across the untidy lawn. The long grass made it difficult to be quiet, as with every move and rustle he felt that he was violating. 

Finding a nice spot to finally rest, he propped himself on his feet so he wouldn’t dirty his pants. Looking at the muggy window made it seem that the house could be abandon. Stuart was losing himself in thought again, but was promptly put back into the now. A dark silhouette could be made out. Short. Small. Like himself he thought. How was he to react?

The silhouette took a right turn and was gone. Part of Stuart told him to run, while another part told him to keep his ground. He could hear a squeaking noise coming from the front door. He should have ran. This was a mistake. 

 

“Ello?” A not too dark but not too deep voice came. 

“If you are the mailman, you know your place and if you are part of that sodding church, go to Hell.” What a pessimistic person.

“God don’t like it when you talk about his place like that sir!” Stuart stood up. He knew God would protect him if he was defending his holy palace. There was nothing to be afraid of. Then, he felt something hit him in the face, making him fall down again.  
“Wot the bloody hell!” He brushed the side of his forehead, where the blow hit. Blood was trickling down into his eyes. Looking to the porch he saw a boy roughly his age aiming a slingshot his direction. A cigarette hung from his mouth, giving him an unwelcoming vibe. 

“Get off my property scum-bag.” He shot again, this time hitting one of the pans next to him. 

“Yew got a lot of nerve doing that to me!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” The rough boy scoffs, bending down to grab more ammunition from the ground. Gripping his sling-shot, he aims once more, but this aiming more towards his neck. 

“God won’t like it if yew hit me again.”

“I don’t care what ‘God’ likes.” He fires, missing by just a few inches. Stuart scrambles back up, angry.

“Don’t yew ever go to church! I don’t know who you are, but maybe yew should take this!” Stuart pulls his Bible from his coat pocket. He knew what he was about to do was beyond wrong, but how else could the holy words reach the angry man-child? 

Chunking the book as hard as he could, Stuart felt pride again. He was helping someone! 

 

Stuart erupted into laughter as the book hit the other boy crotch, making him screech in utter pain and contempt. 

“Sweet bloody Christ in Hell! Rheeekennfuck!” He grabbed his nads and moaned in pain. 

His cackling seized and guilt arose. His whimpers grew louder and Stuart finally gave in.

“Hey, do yew want me to get any ice for ya?” He shouts. Just moans in response. 

“Okay.” Stuart carefully makes his way to the rickety porch, making sure to avoid any rusty nails in the way; He hasn’t had his tetanus shot yet. Taking step on the old wood felt dangerous, almost like it was ready to give out and take his foot along with it. He was finally able to get a good look at the boy.

Messy bangs. Surprisingly well dressed. Biker looking boots. A true bad-boy want to be. 

“Ice is in the fridge...” The voice was faint and sparsely. Stuart had no time to loose. He opens the front door, running through the smoky hallway, stopping midway. The kitchen. Opening the baby yellow fridge, he finds nothing. To add, it was actually warm! 

What was he supposed to do? He runs back outside to see the nasty looking boy was now laughing. 

“You dumbarse! You really thought you could do anything with those little chicken arms of yours! You make me laugh!” Stuart couldn’t control himself any longer.

“Why do yew think that’s funny! Why you could have been in real pain and there ain’t no sign of an ice cube in that kitchen! Yew are really mean!” His words made the other laugh even harder.

“Boy mate! You really are a freak show. Say we buddy up. I can always use a laugh here and there. I’m Murdoc Niccals, owner of this beauteous humble abode.” Murdoc notions with both hands and points to the house.  
“My father will be home soon, so you better scram! He gets violent and his favorite hobby is smashing cute little boys like yourself in the head with nice, thick glass bottles.” The dark haired boy stands up, brushing off the little bit of dust on his coat. He picks up the book that was flung towards him minutes earlier. 

“But I’ll take our little altercation to heart and read a verse or two, yeah?” Stuart looks up. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. And in return, you do me a favor.” Stuart didn’t have time to think of how odd of a statement that was.

“Okay! Whatcha need?” Murdoc wrings his hands, looking off to the side.

“Bring some food. I’m fucking hungry.” Stuart couldn’t help but feel bad for his new friend now. If he didn’t have food, then what else didn’t he have?

“Okay, times wasting! Get your arse out of here!” Murdoc flings his head left and right. He grows closer to Stuart, then brings his index finger to his lips.

“And don’t tell anyone about this. Not even your parents. We could lose this.” Stuart nodded. 

 

He just made his first friend.


	2. FRIENDS

His dopy smile couldn’t be smudged after the encounter with the baffling dark kid. He skipped home and took his father’s words in one ear and out the other. The exhilaration took over.

His mind drifted that night with prospects of thrills that lay ahead. Hugging his teddy bear close, he wondered what he would bring Murdoc next Sunday for food. Maybe scones? Strawberries? Times like these he wishes he were an adult so that he could manage his own accountability. 

His thought became entranced and borderline obsessive. Did Murdoc read his Bible? Was he reading it right now? Did Murdoc go to his school? Does he like music? So many questions, so little answers. 

It did worry him: Why does Murdoc live like he does? No electricity, air conditioning, or food. From the sounds of it, child neglect could be in order. His attire seemed old and tight. His hair shined in the light from the amount of grease. Where was his mother? Does he even notice his condition?

His eyelids began to grown heavy. Finding comfort in his bed, sleep finally creeped towards him. He finally had a friend. A gross and greasy friend. 

 

Next Sunday came as slow as molasses. 

Stuart was prepared. As soon as his parents left the house, he ran to the kitchen. He carefully arranged the items in the plastic tubblewear, making sure they did not touch one another.  
Strawberries, honey, and scones. A truly healthy combination. One that would make his new pal knock his socks off.

He rushed to his bedroom, stripping down clumsily; he didn’t work well under pressure. He slipped on his pressed pants, followed by his undershirt and socks, and finally he adjusted his blue blazer. And for his ‘pièce de résistance,’ he grabbed his black tie. 

No, he didn’t have to wear it, but he wanted to impress Murdoc. Maybe the tie could make a more professional environment to talk about the word of God or could it assert his dominance? Regardless, Stuart couldn’t fight the urge to show-off some today.

He slipped his shoes on. One final thing must be done before leaving.

He quickly retrieved his red Egyptian silk handkerchief. He was attentive when wrapping it around the plastic container, trying his best to make a nice bow at the top. Everything was perfect. With no time to loose he collected himself and dashed through the door. 

Scurrying along the pavement, Stuart hums a familiar tune to release the zest for life he had. He passes by one of the neighborhood lots, pausing for a moment to watch a pair of dogs basking in the sunlight together. The tranquil mood is something Stuart envied. Maybe in the future he would have a partner to enjoy such with. 

Nearing the church slowly, Stuart took a quick detour. With nimble feet, he made his way to the back of the worship center, placing his bright red item under a cool tree, covering it with twigs and sticks so that no one would put their grimy fingers on it. He places his hands on his hips and steps back to admire his work. Excellent.

The small boy walks back to the front of the church’s corridors. His eyes close and he breathes deeply. Last week’s performance was one that his he and his dad will never forget, and by God he knew he could do better. Crossing his fingers with one hand and wrapping his fingers around the door knob with the other, he makes his grand entrance. 

 

He knew God was on his side today. The building was not completely full, but not empty. As his breathing came to a steady pace, he found his seat next to his father. He received a pat on the back and a genuine smile this time. 

As more people came into the Church, the preacher made his way to the podium to greet the crowd. Stuart began playing with his hair and day-dreamed about what he was going to be doing a few hours after the service was over. 

 

Then he remembered last week. Mr. Bradley. 

Stuart never got to know that man well, but he remembers him well enough to know that he was active in the community: Every bake-sale, Sunday school teaching, and Christmas program were always on the shoulders of him. And now that he was found as a gay man meant that he was no longer loved? It baffled him. His thoughts were put to a halt as the minister began.

“Brothers and sisters, thank you for coming on this Sunday morning. May I implore you to listen to these words? ‘Do not turn to the right nor to the left; Turn your foot from evil.’ Now all of you know that straying from His path is considered the worst of sin. But keep an eye for all that may lay in your path. Things that seem wonderful and important may lead to repercussions with God and His son.” The pastor begins to bang on the podium and quickly adjusts his glasses. 

“If you don’t know what lies ahead, trust God. He shall guide you in his light. But if you are unsure or indifferent, don’t take chances that you know could ruin your relationship with Him.” Stuart zoned out once more, thinking about the gumball machines at the supermarket. He really wanted that dog keychain. 

After a few more minutes of ranting and carrying on, the preacher began to sweat and stains began to appear on his pits. Out of embarrassment, he tried to sum up the last of his words.

“Keep what you are familiar with near your heart, as nothing in life is greater that Jesus. Please bow your heads in prayer.” The missing teeth boy grinned. It was time. 

After the prayer had come to a close and everyone began to pile out, Stuart felt that something wasn’t right. He knew what it was when he saw the elderly women grab at their husbands sides. 

Thunder struck. Tree limbs were hurled from all sides of the church. The rain was never ending. His bliss turned to misery the moment the electricity was cut out. He wanted to cry, but his situation wouldn’t allow it. 

But.

He could use his condition to his advantage he thought. Taking his blue blazer off and covering his head, he made a run for it. It was stupid. Regrets were going to sink in soon enough. He would probably be grounded. All these thought and more smothered his head as Stuart ran into the enraged weather. 

Dashing to the side of the church, he searched for the food he had made. Nearing the spot, he knew that it has blown away, and it was nothing more than a lost cause. Balling up his fists, he gives himself a good knock on the head out of rage. 

He could hear his dad out in the distance. He had to run and forget about the one thing Murdoc had asked for. Using his blazer once more, he shielded his face from the oncoming rain pelting him. 

Every step was a puddle. He was filthier than ever. His father’s voice grew faint and weary the farther he went, and by the time he has come to his destination, it was no more. He looks up to finally take a glance at the house.

It was not there. 

Stuart falls to his knees, screaming at the sky. He must have taken a wrong turn or something. It couldn’t be gone. Nothing made sense anymore. If he were smart enough, it seemed that God was punishing him. Punishing him for being a decent person. He raises his fists into the air, and pounds them on the wet grass. The only reminisce of the building were a few scraps of wood and the fridge that Murdoc told him the ice was supposedly in. Life couldn’t get any worse. 

He was upset. He knew why, but didn’t. All that happened last Sunday felt like a fever dream. He could try oh so hard, but nothing he did would replicate it. He drops his blazer and curls up in a ball. What was the point of going back? 

Suddenly, the rain stopped. The rain was faint, like it was hitting something. 

Then he heard crunching. He looks up, his hands outstretched and covered in mud. His face fell.

“You wait too long? Thanks for the food. Found it outside that Church. Ants almost got to it, but I rescued it in time so it could be devoured by the handsome devil myself and wow. You are a bloody mess.” Stuart’s eyes were glimmering. 

“Let’s go somewhere more…sanitary. By Satan I have a story to tell you that will make you hate me more than you do!” As Murdoc finishes his sentence, he shoves another strawberry in his mouth. 

 

*** 

 

“So yew don’t have a house anymore?”

“Technically speaking.”

“So yew live with your dad at the ‘Y’ until you can get somewhere else?”

“Yep.”

“And they demolished your house because they didn’t like it?”

“Yes Stuart.”

“Oh.” What else was he supposed to say? He hasn’t known Murdoc that long, but anyone who loses their home is obviously going through a rough time. He didn’t even think to ask about his Bible; there was already too much going on for him Stuart thought. 

Murdoc stops walking, coming to a nice forest that was only a few blocks down from the site they was at previously. He looks around before entering, beckoning Stuart to come closer. As they walked farther into the depths of the woodland, Stuart felt the silence becoming more extreme. They walked for a few more minutes until Murdoc extended his arm, stopping the little Christian boy. They both smile.

“Look here! I set-up a tent earlier, but the rain kind screwed up our plans…but we can still make it work!” The greasy boy trots into the tent and sits. With his index finger, he motions for Stuart to join. Without a second thought, Stuart happily joins. He sits.

“So now what are we gonna do Murdoc?”

“I don’t fucking know…” He lays down, sprawling out in the tent, taking all the room, making tall Stuart uncomfortably pushed into a corner. With one eye open, the demonic little boy watches the other fidget. He couldn’t wait to push all his buttons.

“So, you like men?” Murdoc sticks his tongue out, grinning. Stuart’s eyes get big.

“Murdoc! Did yew really mean that?” The mismatched eyes of Murdoc’s look to Stuart’s. 

“Uh. Yeah? It’s a question, dumbarse, not a statement.” Looking away toward the exit, the other became uneasy.

“I’ll pray for yew. Murdoc… I hope yew don’t go to Hell…I really liked yew.” Stuart began to understand what was going on. 

“What is that supposed to mean? Yew think I’m a bloody homo? I think the only person you need to pray for is yourself if you keep talking like that.” Murdoc raises his fists, cracking his knuckles indirectly. He then proceeds to burst into laughter. Stuart laughs too.

“No, no! I really enjoy your company compadre. Listen-.” Murdoc scoots closer to Stuart. 

“I’m leaving town tomorrow. I’ll never see your pretty face again. So I need to leave an impression on someone.” The God loving boy’s smile turns into a frown. 

“Don’t cry for me! Hehe…I wanted to see you for a reason.” Murdoc gets up and turns around, grabbing a small black bag. Stuart again, looks in confusion.

“Now. Would you please take a moment to discuss our lord and savior Satan?” With one hand, the demonic child puts his arm around Stuart and with the other he held a black book. 

“Oh no! We can’t do that Murdoc! That’s devil worship! And yew and I could go to…Hell.” He grins

“What if Hell is just a construct created by naive humans like yourself in order to contain peace and conduct within societies? Have you ever thought? It’s thought Stuart, not Satan.” The missing tooth boy was dumbfound. Stuart looks at the tents opening and begins to get lost in oblivion. 

“From the words of Anton LaVey, “If you are going to be a sinner, be the best sinner on the block!” Stuart knew this was about to take a sour turn.

“Murdoc?”

“Yes, my new follower?”

“Can I have my tubblewear back?” He thought for a moment.

“Yes. Under one condition.” Stuart grumbled. 

 

“I want a kiss. A nice wet one.” Puckering his lips, he laughed even harder. The taller boy begins to back up, falling into the side of the tent, his weight pulling it down. 

“Come on. You’ll like it! One kiss and I’ll stop laughing at you!” This was against everything he was taught. But one kiss…it couldn’t kill him. If God understood that he needed the plastic container back so his mother wouldn’t kill him, then wouldn’t he be doing everyone a favor? 

“Okay. One. After that, I need to leave Murdoc.” Frowning, Murdoc fixes his hair.

“That’s fair. I tried. Now, come over here.” Something in Stuart snapped that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I tried to make Murdoc and 2D's conversation one sides for a reason. They next chapter we will see the characters a little older! Hope you are all well! As for me, my internet box and t.v. got fried thanks to mother nature :( Enough negativity. Have a wonderful day <3


	3. Freaks

“Have you been traumatized in any way, from childhood to young adulthood?” The physiotherapists asks, tapping the top of his pen on his clip board.

“No?” The now blue haired teenager raises his eyebrow to the remarkably stupid question. The therapist sighs once more and leans back in his black leather chair, turning to his desk and face the patient. 

“There has to be a reason for your behavior and if you don’t tell me, your parents won’t be able to help you, Stuart.” He gives a condescending smile and folds his hands, trying his best to be forbearing. Stuart yawns as he plays with his leather wristband, emitting apathy and discontent towards the man who was doing his job. 

“Alright Stuart. I’m going to write you another prescription for anti-depressants. Do you find they help with your actions?” The angst boy shrugs his shoulders and looks off to the side as to avoid all eye contact with the social worker. The therapist exhales his breathe and looks at his watch.

“Okay, well Stuart…we are out of time. Take this prescription and the pharmacy nearby will fill it for you.” He beams at the teen one last time before he takes his leave. Arms folded, Stuart walks with his head down to the exit, mumbling. A lot has changed over the years. 

Sporting his usual ripped jeans and crusty t-shirt, the gap-tooth boy trudges in the therapy parking lot, searching for him mum’s vehicle. The days of happy-go-lucky were over as puberty ensued and devoured his body like a crowd of fat people outside a buffet. Like any disquieted parents of a moody sixteen year old boy, they didn’t understand their child and blamed themselves. Approaching the car, Stuart prepared himself for his mother’s anguish. 

These were hard days for him and for now, his life was his parents’ life.

*

Arriving home, the blue haired rebel storms into his room, plopping down on the cushions of his twin sized bed, letting the creaking sound of the rusty springs ring through his ears. Bringing his comforter to his chin, he tosses and turns to get comfortable. Closing his eyes, he lets his mind drift back into his untouched thoughts: Locked away forever and forbidden to touch by anyone but him. He needed to clean his cluttered room, but no right now. A nap sounded good. A long, uninterrupted nap. 

*** 

 

As Murdoc neared his face he couldn’t help but retaliate by impulse. To be frank, Stuart felt cheated that his virgin lips would be taken by a crusty tan boy. Stuart looked at the greasy kid. His eyes were closed and his lips were puckered up. 

Maybe he could make a run for it while he had the chance. 

He looks to the exit. Yes, he could…but he made a promise, and how would he feel if someone agreed to his odd request and then ran off. Who knows, maybe Murdoc could be a valuable asset in the near future to him. Shaking his head and coming back to reality, Stuart notices that the dark boy hadn’t moved. He sighs. Best to get this over with and move on. Closing his eyes and moving in, Stuart tilts his head slightly so his lips could connect to Murdoc’s like a puzzle piece. 

 

It was over just as quick as it began. One little peck on the lips and it was done. Murdoc, motionless, keeps his spot, just opening his eyes slightly. That moment alone was all it took. 

“Hey Stuart?”

“Yes, Murdoc?” Murdoc pauses. Standing up, the boy goes to his bag, rummaging around until he finds the oh-so important rubber container. Zipping up his bag, Murdoc quickly tosses the object in Stuart’s direction, catching him off guard. With big eyes, Murdoc grins. 

“You’re a huge faggot now! Welcome to the party! I’ll see ya in a few years maybe? Yes? No? Probably not. Love yew and hail Satan!” Without a moment to spare, the mini Keith Richards has left, leaving a remarkably deep, melancholy scar on Stuart’s heart for years to come. He was left by himself in the forest, with only a moist blazer and a tubblewear container. Then it hit him.

“Bloody bastard didn’t give me my Bible back…”

Cheated again. How would he widdle his way out of a punishment now that this disaster was over? He would figure it out in the meantime. 

Stuart took the walk of shame back home that day, finding that his meeting with Murdoc only ended in a cesspool of undesired emotions and more distress than it was worth. 

*** 

He woke up. His arms were outstretched, grabbing the sides of the bed in a pitiful display of anxious feelings. The memory was always clear; never fuzzy. The empty feeling inside consumed him in his confusing time of life. What he wanted was wrong. What they wanted was right. Life sucks and maybe he should end it. 

Stuart had to sit up. There was no way he was going to think like that. 

With the little energy he had left, he found the motivation to get out of bed and drag his lanky legs to the keyboard across the room. He slaps the empty pill bottles to the grounds and pushes his dirty clothes that were occupying his seat. Sitting down, his eyes fixate on the keys.

Every long key was white. Every short key was black. They were formed all the same and were fitted together by their maker. Working together, all the keys could create an astounding masterpiece of sound and art, something that everyone could enjoy and celebrate. Why couldn’t he be like one of the many keys on the piano: perfect, uniform, and respected? He was looking too profoundly…once again.

The world seemed to slow down every time he approached the piano. The worries and woes seemed to melt away with his digits gracefully stretching across the length of the piano, producing songs and melodies to sooth his aching nerves. Playing helped him to forget. 

*** 

Waking up the next morning was always a challenge. Opening his eyes, he was greeted with a ray of sunshine and a feeling of disgust. With his left hand, he slowly travels his hand through his blue slick hair, grabbing at a nice chunk and tugging it slightly. Sitting up, his memories slowly come to him. As he views his surroundings better, he looks at the mess of orange bottles and dirty clothes that accumulated around his piano chair. The carnage of his late night activities. What adventure was in store today? 

Standing up, he lets his arms rest at his side, swinging ever so slightly as he brings his groggy self towards his red armoire. Maybe a nice long sleeve shirt or jacket? 

Rummaging through his drawers, he instantly decides on a nice black shirt, skinny jeans, and a dark green jacket with various name brand logos. To top off his outfit, he wears his usual bracelets and red converse. I maybe a basic outfit, but it was comfortable and stylish, for his tastes at least. 

Taking one last look in the door mirror before he went down stairs, Stuart pauses. Nearing the sigh of his own face, he uses his index finger to lift down his eyelid. Bags could be seen.  
An insecure and hot mess. That’s him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Hastily, Stuart runs downstairs. There is always the possibility that his parents weren’t up yet and he could treat himself to all the cereal and snacks to his heart’s content. 

He was sadly mistaken. 

What was everyone doing up this early? What was today?

Right...the annual funfair…how predictable. Well, he knew how his Saturday would be spent.

Every year his parents helped the city compile a ‘funfair’ to raise money. The proceeds would in turn go towards repair, taxes, or whatever the big wigs thought was important. Stuart, the butt of the joke, would have the honor of cleaning up the messes of little children, managing booths, and watching for hooligans. It payed terribly, but at least it wasn’t hot weather he was working in.

Desperately, he hoped that he could run off and have some fun this time. 

*** 

It was only four o’clock and the poor soul was more irritated than ever. 

Within a few hours, Stuart has already experienced more than he could bare. Cleaning the lunch that was graciously vomited out by a three year old after a rollercoaster ride, fighting off a raccoon at the food vender’s station, and the caged monkey peeded on his shoe. He would much rather have every inch of his life beaten out of him by a Romanian mat slapper than have to do this again.

Sighing, he finally sits down on the concrete. 

“Why the Hell do I have to do this shit?” Throwing his head back he exhales deeply. Why couldn’t his prince charming whisk him away yet? Looking at the watch once more brought him back to his sad reality. It’s only four o’five. The sun faded.

Opening his eyes he was greeted by one of the staff members. He seemed angry.

“Stuart! Get off your bum! We have some ruff and though looking kids near the food court. You may need this. Just in case.” The unfamiliar man drops a can of pepper spray in his lap before jetting off to probably yell at others. Mumbling, the angst boy slumps over and walks to his destination.

‘I could be at home playing music and sleeping. Damn bastards…’ He grips the pepper spray tightly. Part of him wishes these kids would give trouble. Maybe then he could inflict pain on others. Pain to people whom he doesn’t know. Pain because they don’t understand.

Nearing the court he takes note. Three figures. All dressed in black leather. Stuart cringes. Laughter from the three could be hear from miles away. He grips the can firmly. Leather jacket kids were always bad. 

Finally he made it. As awkward as he was, he couldn’t help but find the teens moronic already. His lanky ass was looming over them like a buzzard over an animal carcass. No matter. Another burst of laughter erupts. Time to make his move.

“Fair ground staff here. I’m sorry to intrude, but we were informed of a disturbance from this area.” Stuart felt proud of himself. He used correct etiquette for once. The gang of three goes silent, stepping back, forming a semi-circle around the blue haired teen. 

Now Stuart was able to get a good look. 

The first one seemed the brawnier of the two. His hair was pomaded up like Elvis. Bad vibes. Not the kind of man that would bring you home in one piece if you were intoxicated. 

The second one had a long nose and a receding hair line? He gave good vibes other than the switchblade in his hand. This guy looked like he wanted a hug, but was too afraid of what his friends would think.

The third one had to be the leader. Adorned in several colorful patches, he gave the worst vibes. A cigarette hung from his mouth. He looked Stuart in the eyes for a good second. He smiles. 

“Long time no see, Jesus boy.” Stuart immediately knew who it was.

“M-Murdoc?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title name is referencing the 1932 film, "Freaks." Check it out if you can!  
> Stuart's etiquette is meaning he didn't use the word, "you." Big no no if you confront anyone, especially if they are drunk.  
> The first leather jacket teen is a fan made character, Kurt. I've seen lots of fanart. He needs love.  
> Second is...Ace.  
> Hope you are all well! More to come! :) Love you!


	4. Love Circus

He was at a standstill with the now gothic biker man. As the three gang members slowly inched their way around Stuart, Murdoc’s grin grew bigger and bigger. The pointy nose one pipes up.

“So boss? We gonna cut him or are we gonna cut him?” He whips out his switchblade and adjusts his sunglasses. Stuart took this as so he wouldn’t get blood in his eyes.

“Nah, we’re gonna do something much worse, yeah? Boss hates you, Christian bigots.” Mr. Elvis impersonator says calmly.

The other two begin to bicker between themselves, leaving Murdoc to his own demise. Murdoc takes his cigarette from his mouth, puts in between the fingers of his other hand, and with the other arm, he wraps it around poor shaking Stuarts waste. The others stop.

With an obvious cough and wink, Stuart was quickly left alone with the evil man. With wide eyes, the blue-haired teen slowly turns his head to the greaser. Swift eye contact ensued.

“Don’t worry about those freaks. They follow me around like a pup.” He looks up and down the frail man.

“Seems we got some catching up. Mind we get a seat and drink? Stuart nods. Forget this damn job. He wouldn’t make a cent anyway.

***

“So I told him to sod off before I call the bobs. He got furious, I tell you. Picked up that green bottle off the table and smacked me right in the eye. Couldn’t see for weeks out of it.” It had been a good hour now. From what Stuart could gather, Murdoc was on his own now after leaving his abusive father, staying in abandon homes in the area and constantly switching schools.

“So why you even try to keep going? Why you so set on finishing school?” There was a silence.

“What would I amount to then? I’d at least be doing better than that bloody fuck sticking it through school.” The skinny boy nodded. He had to admire the man for such audacity.

“Enough about my endeavors. Now you…” The tan teen raised his hand, showing his long fingernails. With an odd tenderness, he brings his fingers up to Stuart's face, feeling his soft skin. Stuart gave a frown and quickly slaps his hand away, standing up quickly.

“Oh…right. You are too good for that kind of think, whoops!” Murdoc’s boots clap against the ground and he wraps his arm around Stuart’s waist once more. He brings his lips to his ears.

“I always get what I want. And right now…I really want-“Stuart wriggles out of the embrace aggressively. The satanic boy was getting impatient.

“So you expect me to care? Someone who I haven’t seen in years just waltz up in my life once more? After you left, I got in trouble. After you left, my mind faded. I feel sad all the time.” Murdoc though for a moment.

“Do you want to run away or some shit? That’s what I did.” Stuart snaps his neck once more to look at the goth.

“So I end up like you? No thanks. God will direct me in the right path.” Anger surged through his veins as soon as the last word was uttered.

“So we just gonna soak in the juices of depression? Why not we have fun? Isn’t that what Moses would want?” The lanky boy’s eyes soften.

“Y-yeah...”

“So what we gonna do about it?”

“…Do something fun…”

“Exactlyyyyy. Come now, my blue angel! We have much work to do!” Murdoc grabs Stuart's hand and drags him off.

 

***

 

Somehow, the staff didn’t recognize Stuart or they didn’t care. As he walked alongside his estranged companion of honorable street smart stature, he decided to take a quick peek at what he was getting himself into.

Nasty hair for one. Blackheads that could be seen miles away. A close shave wouldn’t hurt him…and a trim as well. Stuart closes his eyes in pain.

No. This man needed more than a detailed cleaning on the outside. It wouldn’t hurt for him to see a therapist, considering he was living with an alcoholic father for most of his life, it was a feat to see him be able to crack a joke. Stuart would probably never understand.

He was getting lost in thought again. What were they doing? Right.

“Um...Murdoc? What is it yew wanna do?” The shorter man twists his torso around, kicking up some dirt in the process. He smiled, showing his unkempt teeth.

“I’m so happy you asked! Quite frankly I was just gonna walk around and show you off, but I could give two flying fucks about any of these people. Sooo, how bout I court you all frilly style, yes? Alright dear! Grab my arm and let us dance to the nearest booth!” Before he could interject, his arm was quickly taken from his socket, his arm popping out of place. No. It wasn’t a handhold. The jerk used his brute force to grip the ever so tender bicep.

Murdoc walked for some time, all the while Stuart trotting along as to not have his limb torn off. The Satanist’s black biker boots came to halt suddenly, sending Stuart flying right into his ribs. Both gave an audible scream.

“What the Hell do you think you are doing?! No PDA right now! Not until I win you that bear right there.” Murdoc points to the booth they stopped at. A huge and obnoxiously bright red teddy bear was upright on a chair next to the ringmaster. It was the milk bottle throw.

“Murdoc, you want in on a secret?” His ears perk up.

“Tell me, babe.” Ignoring the remark, Stuart continues.

“They rig this game. Those bottles are filled with lead and weigh about 10 pounds each. It’s impossible!”

Murdoc slaps Stuart on the back and his eyebrows lower as he makes eye contact with the booth holder, whom of which was on his phone, clueless to the newcomers. The greasy boy makes his move.

“How much a game?” The holder points at the sign above him, not moving an inch. The goth doesn’t flinch.

“I said. How much a game?” The air quickly turned sour as the holder lifts a brow.

“5 dollars for 3 throws.” Murdoc looks at Stuart and smiles again. Walking up to the table, he slaps the wooden stand, making the holder jump.

“That’s actually only four dollars and 25 cents, all in change…but good enough. Give me the balls.” The worker scoffs and sets the softballs on the table, somehow still invested in his phone.

Murdoc grins as he takes hold of the balls.

“I’m gonna blow you away Stuart. Just you wait.”

His first throw misses. Completely. Murdoc looked stunned.

“Strike one!”

“I told you Murdoc. It’s impossible.” No response.

The second throw hits the bottles, but they don’t budge.

“Strike 2!”

“Murdoc, this is silly. You really don’t have to do this.” Anger got the best of him.

“You shut up! I’m going to win! Wait- hey luv, take this 50 cents right quick and get me a drink, please?” The sudden and random request took the blue-haired boy off guard. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the money, placing it in the pale boy’s hands.

“Get me something good and I’ll see ya in a sec!” With a quick push, Stuart walked away confused. Something was up.

“Now, you dammed circus fuck. Don’t ever ignore me again.” With all his strength, Murdoc threw the ball one last time. This time, he won.

 

***

 

Stuart sat alone at the table with the drink. It had already been a good ten minutes and he was beginning to worry. Sure, he didn’t need to worry, he just did.

With a sigh, the sad boy got up. Time to leave.

Ready to get up, he sensed something behind him.

“Hey, Stuart! I broke the system for you!” Stuart’s eyes got wide. As slow as molasses, he turned his head to the side. There was no way that bastard did it…

“I told you I could do it! Now take this bear as a token of my love while I take this drink.” Murdoc sat the bear next to Stuart. It was almost, if not, bigger than him. The greaser drank all of the soda in one big gulp.

“I don’t know if I should thank you or be angry.” Not the reaction the bad boy was looking for.

“I don’t want your pity. Just have one thing I want in return.” Stuart began to fidget. All of the past thoughts he had about the man dissipated into the air.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes began to lower.

“Yeah, luv.” He felt an arm wrap around his shoulder once more.

“Maybe we should go somewhere more private?” Stuart surprised himself. That’s not what he wanted to say. His stomach began to turn and his hands quivered. This was bad.

“Mmm, I like that. Behind the restroom sounds classy. Don’t hold back now.” Murdoc stood up, hands in his leather jacket pocket, and motioned for Stuart to follow him. The red bear was forgotten for now.

It was only a few yards away to the back of the restrooms. It was just a solid brick building. One you would find at a decrepit schoolyard. Considering the area was used for many other events, it was of no surprise that the middle-class area could afford such.

His heart skipped a beat. There was no way in heaven that this was happening. He had tried so hard to collect himself the entire time, but he couldn’t stand it any longer. There he was, in the flesh. Unpredictable to his eyes and urges. He could now feel how it is to hold someone. How it feels to give someone affection.

“So…what now?” Murdoc snapped himself. He had been staring at the other for a tad too long. They were behind the restroom. It was a private area, but he couldn’t make a move.

“Uh...How about I…stupid! You are supposed to initiate this! Not me! Murdoc turns on his heels to face in the opposite direction.

He had no idea what he was doing.

 

“Murdoc…do you think this is okay? I think we should probably no do this…it’s…Bad after all.” Murdoc felt anger coursing through his veins once more.

“Why do you think loving someone is so bad?! Your damn religion has fucked up every brain cell you have, huh? Well, fuck you. You are just going to have to live your entire life, never knowing how it feels to have someone care for you as deeply as…I can read you, Stuart. You ar-“His sentence was cut.

“How do you think I feel?! Every step I take. Every move. I am judged.” Years of angst were summed up in a few words.

“I’m sorry Stuart…” They stood in silence.

“You could probably use one of these…Murdoc reaches inside his jacket to pull out a box.

“Cigarettes?” Stuart felt dirty.

“Yeah, it helps me feel more relaxed.” Murdoc struggles to take one out of the box because of the shakiness in his hands. After getting it lit on his zippo, he hands it to Stuart.

“You just got to inhale it.”

“Okay…” Stuart brings the stick to his lips, drawing in the smokey menthol taste. No coughing followed. Stuart exhales, the cloud of smoke blowing perfectly in front of him, his eyes fixed on the cig. He only broke his glaze when he noticed Murdoc watching him with amazement.

“Y-you are a natural at that…Not even ol’Ace can take a drag without woofing a storm.” Stuart began to blush. It was such an odd compliment.

“Thanks…I guess? Can I finish it?” Murdoc took a moment to respond.

“Course you can. Enjoy it, sunshine.” Murdoc scoots closer to Stuart. The sun was beginning to set, creating a beautiful orange scenery.

After finishing the cigarette, Stuart turned to the supposedly bad satanic boy.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today Murdoc. I’m probably gonna wake up tomorrow and think this was all a dream…like last time I met you.” Stuart leans his back against the wall of the building.

“I think Mr. Ciggy worked his magic. I hate to be the asshole, but I really need to be going. The others are waiting for me. We have some business to attend.” They both frowned.

“Yeah. You probably need to go.” Stuart leaned into Murdoc, trying to rest his head against his shoulder. It didn’t take long for Murdoc to notice and he sat still, making sure to not move too much.

They sat there for some time, gazing at the sky as it turned orange to black. It was a tranquil peace. But not forever.

“I need to be going now, Stuart…” Murdoc started going through the motions of getting up and Stuart followed. It was too dark now to see one another clearly.

“I’m probably not going to be in this area again…” Murdoc’s tone got quiet and gentle.

“But I’ll see you again lover boy. Take care of yourself for me.” With that said, Murdoc reached his arms out to grab Stuart by the waist, bringing him in close for a tight hug.

“Hug that bear when you think of me.” Murdoc pushes Stuart off of him. Then he walked away.

And so was the end of his teenage romance. Nothing more and nothing less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for your patience once more! I have started big kid school and I have been dealing with many personal issues the past few months, hence the delay. To all my readers, please know that you are loved very deeply and regardless of what life will throw at you, you will make it :) I hope you all enjoy this chapter <3 Much love, -Meta Ren

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is the start of another several chapter story! I'm sorry for my absence from the community. There has been a lot going on. I'll try hard to update as much as I can and hope to finish before the end of summer! This will probably be one of the longest stories I will write.  
> I know this is a touchy subject for some of you and my goal is not to offend, put down, or try to convert anyone in anyway. I just wish to convey to you, the reader, a story that you can enjoy.  
> I hope you all have a great day! <3


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